Page 24 of Scrubbing In
Looking directly at Julian for the first time in weeks, I’m once again struck by his good looks and how immense he really is. Like huge. My eyes run up his towering frame, admiring his wide shoulders and muscular arms. He isn’t bulky like a body builder, but I’m guessing he’s no stranger to the gym since he appears fit and toned to perfection. His eyes are more blue than gray under the fluorescent lighting, but no less breathtaking. A black skull cap hides his hair but accentuates his beard, making the few grays sprinkled throughout look more prominent.
It’s really unfair how attractive this man is. I have a feeling my vibrator’s disappointing streak will continue.
Shaking myself, I shuffle from foot to foot as Connor goes on. “I wanted to get him properly acquainted with you both sincewe work with you and the charge nurse most frequently when it comes to posting our cases.”
I choke out a cough thinking about how well Julian and I have beenacquainted. Wheezing into the crook of my elbow to hide my furiously overheated cheeks and clear my throat.
“Are you alright?” Julian asks, leaning towards me, reaching his hand out before quickly dropping it back to his side.
With a final forceful exhale, I stammer out an affirmative.
After a moment to be sure I am fine, Connor continues talking. I hear nothing but the murmur of his voice being drowned out by static. I’m participating in the conversation on autopilot, nodding along or providing the necessary verbal responses though I’m not really sure what I say. My eyes repeatedly bounce to Julian, and each time I find his already on me.
Though Julian seems to be absorbed in the discussion, his steady regard lances through me, warming my blood and sending it pulsing to my core. To relieve the pressure, I sip from my water bottle and shift on my feet again to hide how I clench my thighs together. But Julian’s eyes dart down my body and slowly move back up, missing nothing and intensifying the ache with his hot perusal.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Julian
The reliefof seeing Leena again, of being in her orbit, is instant. But, damn, it's hard to fight the need to pull her into my arms.Where she belongs.
Her parted lips and wide eyes when she saw me with Connor made me smile. I love the effect I have on her. When she started coughing and hid her face in her arm, it had me clenching my fists to keep from reaching for her. My mind went wild wondering what exactly she was thinking about. The way I made her come on my fingers in that dim hallway, perhaps?God, I hope so.
The twinge of guilt I still feel about that night hits me but I shake it off, instead focusing on the blush that colors her cheeks. Admiring the beautiful shade of pink that I am obsessed with tells me she is still affected by me.
When I returned to Philly, I set my plan in motion. After sending her my apology flowers, she sent that one message, which meant that I had her number and continued to use it daily. I just made sure it was never too deep, at least where we were concerned. In the beginning I was left on read, but I wouldn’t be deterred. Then she started sending tapbackreactions, which slowly morphed into emojis and brief replies. It was all the encouragement I needed.
Participating in the conversation with Connor and Chelsea, I can’t help but study Leena. The hoop in her nose is different, it's silver instead of gold, but just as dainty. The usual Operating Room’s light blue-colored scrubs compliment her glowing porcelain complexion. She is unable to use her curtain of dark curls to hide her reaction with her hair tucked away under a white scrub cap with a mustache pattern.Adorable.That is definitely a perk of mandatory hair coverings—she won’t be able to cover up her responsive features. She may not say what she’s thinking or feeling, but her large eyes and fair skin tell all.
Her nervous fidgeting is nothing like the quiet calm she carried herself with at the coffee shop but I find it endearing. With the absence of her usual graceful movements, I catch how she is unable to hide the way she squeezes her legs together.
I will myself to not get hard as I leisurely move my eyes up her body. Her breasts rapidly rise and fall with her heavy breathing that she tries to hide with a sip from her water bottle. But I find it difficult when her lips wrap around the straw, imagining them on my dick instead.
Jamming my hands in my pockets, I rock back on my heels, hoping the movement hides how I discreetly adjust myself.
“Dr. Jacobs, can I get your number?” Chelsea asks, pulling me from my wanton thoughts. With the way Leena commands my attention, it’s impossible to miss the way her head swivels in the other woman’s direction, eyes widening for just a moment before she clears her throat and slips on a mask of indifference. “For the department directory and charge phone.”
Leena visibly relaxes, and I try—unsuccessfully—to hide my smirk when she glances away as I read out the digits, knowing she already has my number and could have added them herself.But my girl is adamant about acting as if our acquaintance has been limited to a few interactions.
Connor explains his process for getting case information to staff during regular working hours. He also points out where we can find the call sheets, and Leena waves a piece of paper before inserting it in the sleeve fixed to the desk. Hospital operators are notorious for giving the barest details when they call the on-call personnel in. Depending on the case, we sometimes need to directly get in touch with staff so they have detailed information to save time when they get to the hospital.
After a few other key pieces of information, Connor pushes away from the desk. “Thanks, ladies. Chelsea, we’ll let you know if we have any add-ons. Logan will be heading out early since we’re here.”
“Sure, no problem. And I’ll message your locker assignment in a little while, Dr. Jacobs.”
“Thank you, Chelsea. It was nice to meet you.” I politely shake her hand. Turning to Leena, I say, “Nice seeing you again.”
With Chelsea already distracted by the monitor in front of her and Connor turning away, I take the opportunity to wink at my girl. The pink already coloring her cheeks blooms down her neck and chest. I fucking love her blush.
The restof the afternoon and evening is pretty uneventful, all things considered. We had one small case followed by a few consults in the ED. Then we finished up the evening rounding on our patients with our service PA and leaving orders for the floor nurses.
Jace texted earlier to let me know he had dinner leftovers waiting at his place. Grateful for my friend, I use the key he gave me to enter his condo. The sound of the TV echoes from the living room as I make my way inside and into the kitchen.
“Hey, man!” I call through the doorway as I open the fridge. I start the microwave, then turn to see my best friend grinning manically at me. “What?” I draw out the word.
Rolling his eyes, he plops down on a barstool. “Dude, cut the shit. Did you see the pint-sized hottie?”
“Don’t call her that. My girl’s name is Leena,” I say, a burning feeling in my gut.
